Halston

“What the hell kind of name is Thane?” I ask my Chem II lab partner on the second day of school. If we’re going to be working side by side the rest of this semester, I need to know if he can handle me. I need to prepare him.

“What the hell kind of name is Halston?” he zings back.

I smile. “Touché.”

Our teacher passes out beakers and blue fluid and some form we’re supposed to work on together, but we’re not paying attention.

“I hope you’re good at chemistry,” I say, “because I’m not.”

“My dad’s a pharmacist,” he says. “Scientology runs in the family.”

“You did not just call it ‘scientology.’” I laugh, rolling my eyes.

“I’m messing with you.” He bumps his arm against mine, and I’m suddenly aware of his sweeping height and the faint, agreeable scent of his crisp cologne. “My dad’s a pharmacist. And I’m amazing at chemistry. You’ve just won the lottery of lab partners. Congratulations.”

I try not to pay attention to who’s who around here. I could give two shits about popularity or whether or not anyone likes me, but Thane Bennett is the guy who walks the halls of Rosefield High School with a dimpled smile, leaving throngs of swooning girls in his wake. He’s an all-star quarterback. The star forward on the basketball team. And last year, he broke three state records on the track team.

But more important than any of that, Thane Bennett is the love of Bree’s life. She’s been crushing on him since they were kids. I used to hear all about him when we could actually tolerate each other enough to endure a sleepover here or there. I’ll never forget her practically making out with his school picture, tongue and everything.

“Lucky me.” I wink.

Our hands brush when he reaches for the assignment sheet.

I feel him staring, but I pretend not to notice.

When the first half of the block is over and the bell rings, our teacher lets us take a five-minute break. Thane disappears, returning with two chocolate bars from one of the vending machines. He slides one in front of me.

“What’s this?” I inspect it before looking at him like he’s insane.

“I was hungry. Didn’t want to eat in front of you, so I got you one too.”

Popular, athletic, intelligent, and polite.

I suppose I see the appeal …

“You don’t have to do shit like this,” I say. “I feel like you’re trying to win me over or impress me or something.”

“And what if I am?” His mouth curls at the sides, accented with two centered dimples, and his messy, sandy brown hair falls in his crystalline blue eyes. “What if I think you’re pretty and funny? What if I want to ask you out?”

“Then I’d say you’re blind, deaf, delusional, and wasting your time.” I rip the wrapper of the chocolate bar, snapping off a tiny square and letting it melt on my tongue.

He’s undeterred, still wearing that panty-melting smile that works on all the other girls. Unfortunately for him, it doesn’t have the same effect on me.

“I’m taking you out Friday night,” he says.

I choke on my chocolate, sputtering and coughing into my elbow.

“You are, are you?” I finally manage to ask a minute later.

“I am.” He stands closer to me than before, so close his body heat merges with mine. Or maybe I’m imagining it because it suddenly got twenty degrees hotter in here.

This isn’t supposed to happen. Preppy, popular boys with dimples aren’t supposed to ask girls like me out, and girls like me aren’t supposed to get fucking butterflies in their stomachs over this kind of shit.

“I’ll check my schedule and get back to you,” I say.

“I’ll pick you up at six. We’ll do dinner. And a movie. And after that we can just hang out somewhere and talk.”

“Why?”

He scoffs, though his eyes are smiling. “Why what?”

“Why do you want to hang out with me?”

“I don’t want to hang out with you. I want to take you on a date,” he says. “And I want to take you on a date because I think you’re beautiful. And interesting. And different.”

“You’ve known me all of forty-five minutes.”

“So?”

“What if we go on a date and you try to kiss me and I knee you in the balls and then we’re stuck being lab partners for the next four months and it’s really fucking awkward?” I ask.

Thane chuckles. “What if we go on a date and have an incredible time and I get to spend the next four months being lab partners with my girlfriend and it’s really fucking amazing?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I hold my hand up, backing away. “Slow your roll.”

“My bad.” He slips his hand around my wrist, pulling me back to our table. Our assignment is untouched, and glancing around, most everyone around us is nearly finished. “One step at a time. A date this Friday. Another one next Friday. And then I’ll take you to homecoming the weekend after that.”

I pretend to gag myself with my pointer finger. “Gross. I don’t do school dances.”

“Then we’ll just do something else that night.”

My scrutinizing stare flicks to him. He can’t be serious. “But you’re probably going to be in the homecoming court and all that. And you’re playing in the game. You can’t not go.”

Thane shrugs. “I don’t need a stupid crown. I’ll take myself out of the running. And the game is Friday, the dance is Saturday. I’ll still play.”

“I have an extremely hard time believing you don’t have some ulterior motive right now,” I say. “Did you and your football buddies make some kind of wager? See who can snag me first?”

“Football buddies?” He laughs. “And no. No wager.”

“That’s exactly what someone who made a wager would say.”

“Halston and Thane.” Our teacher, Mr. Caldwell, clears his throat, standing in front of our table, the buttons of his shirt about to pop. “Let’s stay on task or I’ll be reassigning both of you to different partners first thing tomorrow.”

Thane reaches for a beaker, measuring out fifty milliliters. I have no idea what we’re supposed to do, but I grab a pen and try to look busy until Caldwell waddles away. As soon as his back is turned, we exchange looks and bite our lips to keep from laughing.

Thirty minutes later, the final bell rings.

“You want me to walk you to your car?” Thane asks as I load my notebook in my bag.

“I don’t have one, but if I did, my answer would be no.” I walk away, he follows.

This nicey-nice stuff is weirding me out. I’m not used to it. I don’t know how to accept it with grace and a giddy smile like all the other girls. No one’s ever been this sweet to me before.

“How do you get home from school? You take the bus?” he asks, walking beside me in the hall. Everyone who passes stares at the two of us like we’re some kind of spectacle. This time tomorrow, the whole school is going to know Thane Bennett has a thing for the new girl, I’ll suddenly be cool by association, and I still won’t give a flying fuck.

“God, no,” I say. “I ride with my cousin.”

“What if I drove you home today?”

“Stop.” We stop in the middle of the hallway, two rocks in the middle of a stream of people, all of them moving around us. “I get it. You think you like me. But you’re coming on way too strong.”

Thane offers a lust-drunk half-smile. “Sorry, Halston. I’m not usually like this. I just … really want to be around you for some reason.”

“No, thanks.” I keep walking. He follows. My rejection of his offer doesn’t faze him in the slightest. “What are you doing?”

“It’s just a ride,” he says. “You act like I’m asking you to marry me or something. I just think you’re cool. Want to get to know you, is all.”

Exhaling, I think of Bree and how much she likes Thane. How much it would irk her to know he’s showing interest in me: her insubordinate, ne’er do well cousin.

“Fine. You can give me a ride home.” I try to pretend like I’m not thrilled, but the idea of rubbing this in Bree’s face pleases me to no end. “But only because I feel sorry for you.”

He chuckles. “Sorry for me?”

“Yeah.” My gaze flicks onto his. “This whole lost puppy thing is kind of sad. You must be really lonely.”

I pretend I don’t know he’s the most popular boy in school, his smile capable of melting even the coldest of panties. Except for mine. Of course.

Following Thane to his locker so he can grab his bag, I compose a quick text and send it to Bree, hearts and all:

DON’T WAIT FOR ME. GETTING A RIDE WITH THANE BENNETT!!! <3 <3 <3

Fuck that bitch.